Michael Langdon - oneshots

ᴡʜᴏ ɪꜱ ʜᴇ?

From Blake.

'What a dumb name,' Michael thought.

And then he noticed a text from Blake too, and a Twitter DM. Who needed this many forms of communication?! Michael grumbled to himself, but had no more time to snoop as he heard your footsteps approaching his room.

"Who's Blake?"

Michael hadn't meant to ask so abruptly, and regretted it almost immediately. Apparently, subtlety wasn't Michael's strong suit.

"A boy in my psych class," you said nonchalantly, throwing yourself on the bed next to Michael, "Have you been going through my phone, Michael?"

You noted that your phone was in a different place from where you had left it.

Michael blushed slightly.

"I-"

"Naughty boy," you say, straddling Michael.

"Y/N..." Michael's mouth goes dry.

Your hands run up and down his chest and eventually settle on his shoulders. The sensation of you on his lap is almost too much for Michael to take. It's the most safe and simultaneously nervous he has ever felt. Nevertheless, he didn't want it to end.

"Were you jealous?" you murmur into his ear.

"... Maybe. Who is he-"

"-No one important, I promise."

"But your phone..." Michael argues lamely.

"Who's lap am I on?"

"Mine."

Michael stifles a moan.

"Exactly," you murmur, "You're important. Not him. He's no one, I promise. Do you believe me?"

"Yes," Michael whispers after a moment of silence.

"Good."

You go to get off of his lap, but Michael resists. His hands settle on your thighs. You raise your eyebrow and smile; Michael mimics your smile.

"Don't move," Michael all but begs.

"I won't," you tell him, cupping his face.

You lean in and kiss him, passionately and forcefully. Michael has never been kissed before, let alone like this. His whole body feels electric. Without realizing, his fingers dig into your thighs in the most delightful way. One of your hand falls from his face and you use it to gently move one of his hands to the small of your back. Michael barely notices, but once he recognizes where it is, he uses it to bring you closer to him.

"I love you," you confess to him, breathless from the kiss, "Only you Michael."

"Good," he replies, "I love you too."

You're about to kiss him again... And more when Miss Mead walks in. You pull away from Michael slightly in embarrassment, but Michael doesn't let go of you. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, not wanting to make eye contact with his mum.

"I was just checking up on the two of you," she laughs, "But it seems you two are fine."

"Yes we are," Michael relies, "Please leave-"

"-I'm glad something has finally happened. Michael's been moping over you for ages."

"Leave!" Michael protests, flustered.

You lift your head, and look to Miss Mead. She smiles.

"Really?" you ask, before looking to Michael, "Is that true, Mikey?"

"Yes..."

You smile and gently touch his cheek.

"Please get out," he mumbles to Miss Mead, and she obliges.

He doesn't speak for a moment, upset that he'd mother had freely shared such information. What did you think of him? He wasn't just some teenage boy with an obsession for a pretty girl- it was more than that. Michael didn't dare to meet your eyes.

"Don't be embarrassed, Michael," you say sweetly.

"I didn't mope over you," he says under his breath.

"I know," you smile, gently brushing his hair out of his face, making him look at you, "I know, love."

He just looks at you for a moment.

"Now do you want to continue what we started?"

"Yes."

All the embarrassment and frustration he felt a moment ago fades and he is filled with a desire for you, for his love, for his Queen.

"Then make me scream."